Sheelagh Kelly - The Keepsake

Propped on one elbow, Etta agreed. ‘That’s what woke me – that and the birds. I’ve been watching you for ages.’ She trailed tender fingers down his sweating face, then dabbed her lips to it.

Smothered by her long hair, he chuckled and fought a gentle way out. Few sounds came from outside. ‘It must only be about five.’ He kicked off the covers, the erotic musk of her body wafting up to arouse him into kissing her, she meeting him willingly. But the room was like an oven, forcing him to break away abruptly with a grunt of discomfort.

‘Sorry, darlin’, I’ll just have to open the window.’ He clambered over the bed and reached through the curtains to open the sash, though this was to provide little relief and he groaned as he slumped back beside her and tried to flap some air inside his shirt.

‘I don’t mind if you take your clothes off.’ Etta dipped her mouth into the socket of his eye then licked the salt from her lips.

His lazy grin exuded sensuality and he ran his hands through his hair to relieve his perspiring scalp. ‘I can’t vouch for what would happen then.’

‘I think it already has happened to some extent.’ She rolled a coquettish eye at his groin.

He gasped – ‘You’re shameless!’ – but immediately leapt atop her, eager to find out the extent of her invitation, and was ecstatic upon finding that she did not push his hands away this time, no matter how intimately they pried.

The heat of the day was forgotten as an inner heat took over, overwhelming Etta to such a pitch that in her thrashing she almost rolled off the bed. Between frantic laughing kisses she urged him to stop only so that she might take off her underwear. All self-consciousness gone, both rapidly divested themselves of this last barrier, then hurled their fevered bodies back together, rocking and chuckling and moaning, and, amidst passion, pain and apology, forged their blissful union.

Sweat trickled off Marty’s body as, finally, he rolled away from her and lay there panting and victorious, whilst Etta shifted onto her side and continued to kiss him, quiet, loving little kisses on his shoulder, nestling and nuzzling, both of them thoughtful, marvelling at what had occurred. Inevitably, though, much as each loved the other they were forced to move to the outer edges of the mattress, spreading their naked limbs to try and catch what little draught came through the window, yet maintaining contact with each other by the tips of their fingers. The air was pungent with their odour.

‘I’ve no hat.’

Marty chuckled at the inappropriate comment. ‘And do you always wear a hat for this kinda thing?’

‘For our wedding! I must have one.’ On the point of going to luncheon when he had come to rescue her, she had not been wearing outdoor clothing. It had only just begun to register now what dire straits she would be in when the climate changed. And, ‘Oh, look, my dress is on the floor!’ She beheld the crumpled garment with dismay.

He threw off his languor and leapt out of bed, giving the dress a shake and hanging it on a peg. ‘The creases’ll drop out by afternoon. I shall have to sponge me suit an’ all, it’s carrying half o’ your father’s garden.’

‘You’re so capable.’ She ran admiring eyes over his naked muscles.

‘There’s no limit to my talents, but holding my water isn’t one of them – could I ask ye to turn your back for a minute?’ His bladder swollen to the size of a football, he was finally compelled to employ the chamber pot. ‘Stop your giggling! I can’t go if I know anyone’s listening to me.’

Successfully relieving himself, he enjoyed a lengthy scratch of his torso, raked his hands through his hair that was all stuck up from bed, then went to pour a drink from the jug, sharing the glass with her. Thirst quenched, he lay back beside her nude form, desire already beginning to rekindle.

But before responding to it he felt obliged to murmur amends. ‘Sorry.’

She rolled her head to search his eyes. ‘Goodness, what on earth for?’

Face thoughtful, his fingers gently strummed her belly. ‘Hurting you. I did, didn’t I?’

Etta wrinkled her nose and shook her head to reassure him. ‘Well, perhaps just a little – but it was glorious too.’ She threw herself onto her side to issue fervent kisses.

Encouraged, he grinned and snuggled up to her, to begin the whole sequence all over again. There was still no interruption from the outside world other than the grind of the iron-rimmed wheels of the milk cart.

Perspiring and happy, desire pitted against fragile flesh and overwhelming all, Etta and Marty were working their way towards another bittersweet union when there came movement from across the landing as the landlord and his wife prepared for the day ahead. Marty put a finger to his lips, but this only made Etta titter even more and he had to stifle her with his palm, whispering, ‘You’ll get us chucked out!’ Making sure she was over her laughter, he withdrew his hand from her mouth and rolled out of bed – but she nipped his bottom causing him to wheel round with a hiss of accusation, albeit amused. ‘Behave! Or there’ll be no breakfast for you.’

He had intended to save the cold beef for as long as he could, but, ravenous now, he went to fetch the paper bag from his pocket, he and Etta devouring its contents as if at a feast, ignoring the fact that the slices were slightly grey and curling up at the edges.

Afterwards, Etta urged him to perform the same courtesy as she had shown him whilst she used the chamber pot. Whilst doing so she heard muffled amusement. ‘What are you laughing at now?’

‘Sorry – I just didn’t know posh folk passed wind!’

She came at him in a giggling rush to unite yet again.

The hour to their wedding crept nearer. Feeling distinctly grubby, the bride-to-be coaxed the groom into procuring a bath from the landlord. When he replied that this would be deemed a most unusual request, she wheedled, ‘Oh, please, I can’t go to my most important day in such a state, can I?’

‘Well, I suppose I wouldn’t mind sharing the water,’ he admitted. Concerned that the victualler might have overheard their bawdy antics, Marty nevertheless wanted to do all in his power to please her, and so, after donning his shirt and trousers, he went down to make his request which, as he had feared, was met by a laughing gasp of astonishment.

‘What does he think we are?’ the landlord demanded of his wife, then to the petitioner, ‘Get yourself down to the slipper baths!’

‘Normally I would.’ Marty could not give the true reason for wanting to look spruce. ‘It’s just that I’ve an important appointment and I don’t have that much time.’ Fishing into his pocket he took out the change from the sovereign that had paid for last night’s meal. ‘I’ll gladly pay you.’

‘Go on then,’ said the landlord grudgingly with an outstretched hand, and said he’d send the tweeny up. ‘But don’t make a habit of this.’

‘Thank you, we won’t bother you again,’ promised Marty. But as he turned to go the landlord’s addition made him blush.

‘And don’t make a habit of all that giggling racket at the crack o’ dawn, neither!’

Ducking in embarrassment, but stifling laughter too, Marty rushed back upstairs to inform Etta that, hereon, they must bridle their unrestrained lovemaking. Far from this affecting them, though, it only inspired another bout of gleeful kissing whilst they waited for the bath to arrive, and only when the maid and the landlord’s wife brought it in did they hastily separate, Etta whipping her left hand behind her back to hide the lack of a ring.

That plain and simple water could provide such ecstasy – Etta had never realised it before today. She sank into the lukewarm tub, luxuriating for so long that a sweating Marty had to beg for his turn. Whilst he watched from the bath, she took her time in dressing, eschewing the corset as too cumbersome.